


Tell Me How You Really Feel

by ChettaDrabbles (KOranges)



Series: I Just Can't Find the Words [2]
Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes deals with his issues(tm), Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 19:36:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11561916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KOranges/pseuds/ChettaDrabbles
Summary: Bucky Barnes would never ever in his entire life voluntarily choose to ask Sam Wilson for advice. But apparently somebody was going to have to teach him exactly how to communicate like a normal human being. There were words that Bucky couldn't get out that somebody needed to teach him how to say.





	Tell Me How You Really Feel

**Author's Note:**

> Each of these drabbles are inspired by a prompt I received during an eight month long writing challenge. I'll only be sharing my favorites but every Tuesday & Thursday and I'll post a new one.
> 
> Prompt: "It feels good to be home."

“Drisnya” Bucky dropped the knife and examined where he’d nicked his own thumb.

He ignored the way Steve stared at him, waiting for more.

Bucky still found himself relying on his Russian vocabulary at times. Steve played this off as nothing- he’d spent more of his life there than in America. And Russian had been drilled in to him much harder than English ever was.

They never strictly taught him their languages. But he’d always been a fast learner. They preferred to give him orders and commands in their native languages. So over the years he picked up conversational fluency in both Russian and German. One of his doctors was Polish for a decade or so, so he picked that up as well. One of the nurses was Romanian. On missions he picked up French and Spanish. Collected and hoarded and never used like an old man with boxes full of priceless memorabilia.

Years would go by without more than a handful of words. They’re powerful. They hurt. To be used only when absolutely necessary.

“I’m hungry.” 

Or. 

“I’m OK.” 

Or. 

“I’m still alive.” 

Or.

“Are you still alive?”

Steve understand this. At least he thinks Steve understands this. But it had been at least three days since the night Bucky woke up to Steve being gone. Maybe more. Maybe weeks. Or months. Time is hard. Bucky can tell Steve had expected him to start speaking more at some point but the words still died in his throat. They were happy in their little apartment, Bucky was sure of that. They had their nights that were better than others. Some were worse.

But now every time Sam came over and talked to Bucky, he could see the discomfort and anxiety rolling off of Steve in waves. It got bad enough that Sam sent Steve out of the apartment for the rest of the hour. 

“You gotta talk to him.” Sam said, shaking his head. 

“I do.” He did. Three whole words that morning. Steve asked about breakfast. Bucky had already eaten.

“No, you do silent and brooding.” Sam laughed. Bucky stared down at his hands and Sam’s laughter subsided into a sigh “I mean you wear it well but Captain Feelings doesn’t exactly read between the lines.” 

“What lines?” Bucky wrinkled his forehead. He knew the metaphor Sam was trying to make and honestly just wanted to see the look of frustration on Sam’s face for having to explain it. Sam must have caught on to his game because all he did was glare at Bucky and get up from the table. 

“He cares about you.” Sam told him.

“Me too.” Bucky shrugged. They both knew this about each other.

“Talk to him about how your feelings before he gives himself an aneurysm.” Sam said. 

“Sure thing, Birdman.” Bucky mock saluted. Sam flipped him the metaphorical bird but smiled.

“Consider it your homework.” Sam told him. Bucky nodded. Each week he got homework he didn’t do.

Maybe he’d do this one.

“One thing.” Bucky called after Sam just as his hand hit the door. Sam turned and managed not to look overly impatient while Bucky struggled to get out exactly what he needed from him. It took over a minute but eventually Bucky managed to get a single, almost entirely strangled. “How?”

To Sam’s credit he didn’t laugh. The corners of his mouth just twitched upward slightly.

“Don’t be an ass.” Bucky grumbled. Sam did laugh then, but not meanly.

“I won’t, I won’t.” Sam assured him. But he looked amused. “But just. I have to ask…For real?”

Bucky scowled and called him a name in Russian.

“At least the few words you can say are creative.” Sam grinned at him.

“I talk plenty.”

“Do you really?” Sam challenged. There was short pause as they stared each other down. Bucky blinked.

“Apparently not, I guess.”

“It’s ok you just got a decades old stick shoved up your ass.” Sam grinned at him and started rambling about how to express emotions. Bucky disregarded ninety percent of it out of hand. Steve didn’t want him waxing all poetic. That wasn’t either of their style. It wasn’t until Sam smacked the table that Bucky’s attention was grabbed back. “I’m giving you some excellent stuff here man. You should be taking notes. It’s book worthy. Maybe I should write a book. Are you even listening to me?”

“Nope.” Bucky grinned. Sam groaned.

“Just tell him how you feel. I swear it’s not as hard as you make it.”

“I do. He asks how I am. I say OK.”

“Jesus.” Sam rubbed his hand across his face. “He’s not asking for a status report. He’s not your CO. He’s your friend and he wants to know how you’re feeling.”

“I feel fine.” Bucky shrugged. He didn’t see the difference.

“You’re an idiot.” Sam told him with a scoff.

“For a therapist, you aren’t very nice to your clients. Maybe I’m not the only idiot in the room.”

“That’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at one time.” Sam told him matter-of-factly. 

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is.” 

“No-“

“Are you happy? Sad? Angry? Do you feel emotions like a normal person? Do you even want to be here?” Sam rattled off about a dozen more questions and Bucky frowned. Nobody spoke as much as Sam and Bucky didn’t honestly have the energy to listen.

“I love Steve.” Bucky told him simply. Sam went silent.

“That.” Sam pointed at him firmly. “Sounds like something you should tell Steve.”

Bucky nodded seriously. “Maybe I should take notes.”

“I feel like if you start there, you should be fine.” Sam laughed. Bucky frowned.

“Are you sure?” 

“Just remember. Feelings. Share them. Steve really likes sharing feeling.” Sam reminded him.

Steve came back an hour later with groceries. Bucky pretended not to notice the worried looks Steve was giving him as he unloaded all the different things he had bought. Bucky wondered if he even knew what he’d put in the cart or if he had just wandered down the aisles distractedly grabbing things to keep busy. The pile of Brussel sprouts packages- which Bucky knew neither of them ate- told him that most likely Steve bought the food just to keep busy.

“Steve?” Bucky said to get his attention. Steve nearly dropped the milk cartoon. 

“Everything ok?” He left the groceries and came to Bucky. The extra attention made him squirm. 

“I feel.” He paused and took a deep breath to put together the words he wanted. Feeling statements. He could do that. Once he looked up at Steve words were a little harder to come by. “It feels good to be home. I’m happy. Here. With you. I want to be here with you. Ok?”

It wasn’t the smoothest statement but Steve smiled at him. “Ok.”


End file.
